What's This? A Christmas Future
by Sgt. Dee
Summary: A fanfic with music in two chapters. Postfic teaser for a story still in development. Fluff with bits of floating angst. BA…and BA! My very first story up.
1. Berlin Bebelsplatz

**What's This? (A Christmas Future)**

A fanfic with music in two chapters. Post-fic teaser for a story still in development. Fluff with bits of floating angst. BA…and BA! My very first story up.

Thank you Dick Wolf for LOCI and all its characters. (You own them, but what would we do without them?) However, the other characters here, many nameless for now, are all mine. Credits for music quotations, explanations and author's blather at the end of each chapter. As a newbie, I love feedback.

**December 2007**

_What's this? What's this? _

_There's something very wrong _

_What's this? _

_There are people singing songs _

_What's this? _

_The streets are lined with _

_Little creatures laughing _

_Everybody seems so happy _

_Have I possibly gone daffy? _

_What is this? _

_What's this? _

**Chapter 1**

**Berlin—Unter den Linden/Bebelsplatz**

Nightfall came at 4pm this time of year, but it did not matter to the tall man waiting on the steps of the Staatsoper—the Berlin State Opera.

A year ago, he could not have imagined being here. Twenty-five years ago in the Army, he would not have been permitted here. But in present time, he looked out on Bebelsplatz and it was all good. The skaters on the temporary rink in the the square circled, twirled, laughed. The dome of St. Hedwig's Cathedral radiated green, the Alte Bibliothek—Old Library, the university buildings nearby and the Staatsopera itself behind him glowed in gold-tinged white.

_You and the night and the music..._

It was the light coating of snow or over-gorging most of the day on books in the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin--Berlin State Library—nearby on Unter den Linden, but the people in the square…twinkled.

_There are children throwing snowballs here _

_Instead of throwing heads _

_They're busy building toys _

_And absolutely no one's dead _

_There's frost on every window _

_Oh, I can't believe my eyes _

_And in my bones I feel the warmth _

_That's coming from inside _

_Warmth._ _Glow_. His busy brain saw another time. This was called Opernplatz in May 1933. Twenty thousand books burning. The twinkly people's not-too-distant ancestors guttered songs, waved red-black-white _hakenkreuz_ banners, laughed, danced, threw more books on the pyre.

Its sole memorial was a glass plate in the ground in the center of Bebelsplatz, revealing empty bookshelves underneath. Its plaque contained Heine's prescient quote of a century earlier: _Dort, wo man Bücher verbrennt, verbrennt man am Ende auch Menschen_—"Where they burn books, they will end in burning human beings."

Burning books...ideas...comfort...refuge. The image in his head put ice in his gut.

She wrote him last year:_ Both of us have a common trait in overthinking things…our brains broil in a NY minute often to our peril. We snap to seeing the past in the present (and I'm far guiltier than you of this, because damned if I don't hear it too) --and miss the beauty of the present altogether..._

Right as usual. Even when she wasn't here she brought him right back to reality. It was too remarkable of a night, so he returned to enjoying the twinkle and glow, moving a bit to warm up, scanning the square, looking for a small, lovely figure in black, who would be moving quickly.

_Over here they've got a little tree, how queer _

_And who would ever think _

_And why? _

_They're covering it with tiny little things _

_They've got electric lights on strings _

_And there's a smile on everyone _

_So, now, correct me if I'm wrong _

_This looks like fun _

_This looks like fun _

_Oh, could it be I got my wish? _

_What's this? _

Across Bebelsplatz east from Behrenstrasse, a woman in a fur collared full-length black coat moved at a smart clip. She had enjoyed her tough day of shopping in the well-appointed stores of Friedrichstrasse and Stadtmitte. The result was two small packages tucked into her large handbag. It was time for brain food.

Focusing on the Staatsoper, she hoped a certain tall man would already be there, as it was close to performance time.

She hoped he wasn't "lost". Not lost on the U-Bahn like a tourist. "Lost" in the 18th century delights of St. Hedwig's. "Lost" in the State Library, which could swallow him whole. _Then I'll have to get a library card and check him out..._

_SNAP TO. Scan. Observe. Listen. Anything out of the ordinary? Situational awareness rules. Thank God you can still do this and entertain your busy brain at the same time._

This was a new Berlin. Hers had been West. West of a blasted, forbidding Brandenburg Gate. The Wall. Checkpoint Charlie. The "Ivans" ever looming. West Berlin of her high school years, the daughter of a US Air Force colonel stationed at Tempelhof. Returning as an officer herself, assigned to a joint signals intel unit dubbed "The Home for Wayward Brainiacs". Her first taste of command, de facto though it was. Deadly serious data analysis, boring work for most. Your brain had to work a certain labyrinthine way to love it.

The big secret was that brainiacs had better fun. And there was Johnnie. Wonderful, absolutely right Johnnie. Yet there was_ him._

Her heels clicked as she walked quickly over the cleared paving stones towards the Staatsoper. _What's this?_ Ice skating in Bebelsplatz? So terribly German Christmasy. Of course it was right next to the 1933 book burning memorial. Thank you, Berlin, for the irony.

The damp _Berliner luft_ seemed a little colder and she snuggled into her coat. Black times four—coat, hat, boots, dress. In the West the color of the day was blue. Johnnie commanding in RAF blue with the wide/narrow alternating blue and black bands of a squadron leader, equivalent to major. Her seconding in USAF blue with fresh single silver bars on the shoulders.

_He_ of course had to be different—Army greens, three sergeant's stripes. She snatched him from a MP unit that mainly patrolled bases and quelled bar fights. Equal measures of brains, brawn and gawkiness in the giant economy size. She got her captain and Johnnie to go along with the gag. And thereby launched a career and a life.

A life that had saved hers twice. And she returned the favor twice over in another island, an ocean away, over a year ago. Their badges both gold, but hers bore the Queen's crown of her adopted city.

_Everything that rises must converge,_ Johnnie once said.

Bebelsplatz became more luminous as she neared the Staatsoper. The reflection of light enhanced by snow. Getting windy, coming down from the North Sea, her eyes tearing up. She walked even faster now.

She was glad they were spending their short holiday mainly in the eastern part of Berlin. For both of them it was a new city. A chance to make their own memories that didn't constantly bump into the past. The East was theirs alone.

Staatsoper, finally. She looked up. Their eyes met. His brown and deep. Hers green. A light, luminous green. He walked down, she walked up.

Meeting, they smiled, corners crinkling. He leaned down to kiss her. With his large left hand, he touched the dark brown of her hair over her collar, holding her left hand in his right. The slight squeeze made his ring pinch a little. Her eyes widened, ever so slightly. Private looks in a public place.

Oh, your nose is cold! Well, the opera tonight will warm us up. "Doktor Faust" by Ferruccio Busoni. In 1930s dress. A man who sells his soul to the Devil….how Berliner! Yes, let's go in—now!

_So, now, correct me if I'm wrong _

_This looks like fun _

_This looks like fun _

_Oh, could it be I got my wish? _

_What's this? _

**_Author's Notes Updated 12/19/06: Chapter 1, Berlin_**

Lyrics: "What's This" by Fall Out Boy. I found this lyric totally by accident, have no idea of the tune or the author but isn't it marvelous and Christmasy? Thanks to obsessedwithstabler for the proper credit: Tim Burton's "A Nightmare Before Christmas".

Interpolation: "You and the night and the music"—a wonderful start to an even more wonderful tune by Arthur Schwartz (Jonathan's dad). Written about 50 years prior to "What's This".

No, I've never been to Berlin. (The closest I got was selling ad space for the German National Tourist Office's annual guide in 2002.) I kept a lot of German place names in as (1) our characters both speak German fluently and (2) they are readily understandable in context. The rink is current, the opera "Doktor Faust" is currently playing at the Staatsoper and the memorial to the 1933 book burning is real.

The military history is from basic research. I am a WWII living historian/reenactor with some general knowledge of military practice postwar. I've been privileged to know many veterans, some of whom were career military in the Air Force and stationed in Germany up until the 1980s. The American high school is real, with a long history of educating the children of military staff and, up until it ceased, Pan American's Internal German Service personnel. If anyone can fill me in with details on either please send a review!

Newbies love feedback!


	2. New York City

**Chapter 2**

**New York City—Malba, Queens**

In Berlin, the conductor lifted his baton, and in New York, a couple pulled up in their SUV to the neat, well-built home within sight of the Throgs Neck Bridge. Already, the street and driveway was crowded with cars of family and friends.

The small woman in the driver's seat braked, put the transmission into park and unlocked the doors. Once she had dreaded this day, a birthday, because it had only reminded her of a great gift and an equal loss, an emptiness that she never dreamed could be filled.

_Said I, many times, love is illusion_

_A feeling result of confusion._

_With knowing smile, and blazing sigh,_

_A cynical so and so was I._

She slid out of the driver's side and balanced herself a little stiffly on the sidewalk, then turned back to look at her passenger. He was already in the back, undoing the seat, smiling and talking to the small bundle contained within it.

_I felt so sure, so positive_

_So utterly, unchangingly certain._

_But I never was aware of love and you._

_Seventeen months. Seventeen months since he walked into 1PP with his partner and "the tour group" and everything changed. Of course, a lot of what happened after I could have done without..._

Dark blond hair parted on the right and cut fairly short. Strong but refined features that reflected his good breeding. Not quite as tall as her partner, but leaner and more muscular. A bearing and direct manner that with his build she recognized as former military. A quiet charm that was strictly his.

Among the women and at least one guy, there were whiplash cases galore. Word spread, and suddenly MCS had sightseers from SVU, Cold Case and even Warrants in those late August/early September weeks.

Right up until September 11, when the nightmare started. And one of the images that kept her sane was his.

But this year was a gift. And this man was a gift. The kind that just kept giving.

_In this world of ordinary people_

_Extraordinary people_

_I'm glad there is you_

In one large arm he held the bundle of boy closely and in the other, her. She was small beside him, but she was used to that. The cold nipped at them and they hurried to the door of her parents' home, but not before smiling at each other and cooing at the smallest one of the three.

The door burst open—as usual—and the noise and excitement of her large clan spilled out into the street. Having grown up in a small and very proper family, he found it took some getting used to, but he liked it. It reminded him of his older brother's lively brood and even the best of barracks life. Everything was fair game, including his accent, that he could read both Arabic and Hebrew, and the usual joshing about their "mixed marriage" even though he was Roman Catholic like the rest of the family. He had even figured out most of the arcane "house rules."

_In this world of over-rated pleasures_

_Of under-rated treasures_

_I'm so glad there is you_

Snack in hand, he watched her in the living room with the riot of children and teenagers. His first marriage had been so different. He was in the Royal Marines, with a woman he thought he knew and loved. A beauty who craved what she thought was the glamorous life of an officer's wife and could not hide her disappointment when it turned out to be long deployments and cold flats on dreary bases. He gave in to her wishes and resigned his commission. Friends from the Forces advised him that there were openings in the London Metropolitan Police—Scotland Yard—that suited someone of his background and talents. London had plenty of other men to entertain her, with no children to curtail her time or spoil the figure. Civil divorce, a hard to get church annulment and that was the end. They had not been in touch in nearly ten years.

_I live to love, I love to live with you beside me_

_This role so new, I'll muddle through with you to guide me_

He looked at her cradling their boy—Robert John—family names that were in no small coincidence the names of her partner and his partner's late husband—and moved to her side. She shooed her brothers' kids off the couch, making some room for him. Of course they would come right back to tug at their new uncle who spoke funny but loved to romp.

Her mom got them away with promises of cookies so the three could have a little semi-private time together. If she could read the thoughts behind their smiles, they would be:

_We are so fortunate to have each other, well and reasonably sound. We are lucky to have had a strong, healthy child to love, who filled a hole in two hearts. We are lucky to love our work and to have the two best partners in the world, whom in the arc of their return to each other brought us together. They love and take care of each other and in no small measure, us. _

_**In this world where many, many play at love**_

_**And hardly any stay in love**_

_**I'm glad there is you**_

_**More than ever, I'm glad there is you**_

**_---------------------------------------------------------------_**

**_Author's Notes: Chapter 2, _****_New York City_**

The canon is not specific about the Eames family residence other than it's large to accommodate a large family. It's been placed in Queens and Long Island. I placed it in Malba, Queens, because it is an exceptionally nice (and now very exclusive) area with large houses, but John Eames in the 1960s may have been able to afford a "fixer-upper". It was also a safe area for a family during the bad years of NYC, a factor important to a policeman father.

Lyrics: "I'm Glad There Is You" by Paul Madeira (Mertz); music by Jimmy Dorsey. This includes the seldom-used introductory bridge. Excellent versions by Frank Sinatra and Carmen McRae (Carmen's includes the intro, Sinatra's is better known).

**OK, now that you've read this, you deserve some clues (updated 12/22/06): **

1) If you read this closely, _most_ (but not all) of the relationships are there, plus the crucial event, but explained in broad strokes. Yes, there are two sets of partners: the one you recognize is NYPD (don't toss any bricks, they'll remain so) and the new one's from the "Met" (not the opera, but the London Metropolitan Police, a/k/a Scotland Yard). The newcomers have a little more exposition because you know the other two so well.

2) For how we get to this happy world, you'll have to wait for "Second Chances", which is a long fic to be written sometime in the future. This is going to be a long romantic yet angsty adventure and while mostly worked out, a major commitment of time to actually write that I don't have right now. (I have a folder full of notes, however!). I may take these characters and some others from the LOCI canon for a trip in a different direction, though, before then.

3) The first chapter is a little "dense" because these two are. They just are. And neither comes easy off the keyboard.

4) Did anyone catch the reference to the "Dani" character (SVU, Stabler's temp partner) in para. 8? She was from Warrants. If so, you get a L&O gold star!

5) Finally--why didn't I name the characters? To keep you guessing! Hey, we have to have some fun here!

Newbies love feedback and I'm no exception. Tell me whether you liked it. And thank you to all who have commented so far--I've valued every single one!

Merry Christmas!


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